


Bad Thing Betty

by guidebetelgeuse



Category: Beetlejuice (1988)
Genre: Awkward Dates, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 04:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16633037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guidebetelgeuse/pseuds/guidebetelgeuse
Summary: Lydia asks Betelgeuse to come over as the "date" she's been seeing. He delivers.





	Bad Thing Betty

She had said “just change into something they’d never want to see again. Just no snakes or monsters. And nothing that will hurt them.”

 

Betelgeuse had given her a suspicious look from where he hunched on her vanity. “Anything? Babes, that leaves a lot of room for interpretation even with the fine print.”  


The girl sighed with exasperation. “I trust your judgement. You know me by now Beej. Make it good enough so they leave me alone.”  


At that, the ghost’s eyes widen. She trusted him? Big mistake. Already, something truly horrific was forming into his brain. Oh he’d make them leave her alone alright. And he would do much more than _that_ , too.

 

——————-

 

Delia was over the moon that Lydia was bringing home someone. She had peppered the girl with questions all week, fussing at poor Lydia over what she was going to wear, and dreamily going on about first love all week. It was disgusting, and by the time their date night rolled around the girl thought she was ready to exorcise her step-mother herself.

 

Charles, on the other hand, was being insufferable in his own way. He had been practicing his hand-shake all week in his office, Lydia caught him at it, and smiling happily and nervously whenever he caught her eye. Once, he had attempted to take her aside and have a talk about things that men like in life - but she had feigned sudden sickness and fled back to her room.

 

Date night finally rolled around on a Saturday night. Delia had covered various surfaces in flowers and had hired three maids to ensure the house was positively spotless. The way she decided to dress was almost as if she was going on a date herself, and she fussed at Charles about how they never went on romantic adventures anymore. Charles attempted to argue with her to no avail, and simply wound up settling for promising her better in a sulky tone.  


The house was prepared to the finest, the dining room laid out beautifully. Delia had actually made herself useful for once, though whether it was for herself, Lydia or her new beau was unclear. Lydia, meanwhile, had made herself busy in the kitchen. In order to avoid any further contact with her parents she had forbidden them from interrupting her cooking one single iota until her date arrived. Internally, she was hoping Betelgeuse had know what she wanted. Asking him for help was a singularly monkey’s paw experience, and this date could easily go awry if he showed up as himself, or worse, something her parents would immediately see through. She also secretly hoped Betelgeuse would like her cooking. She had actually worked hard on this despite her misgivings.

  


As she finished putting the garnish on the amuse bouche and pulled the second course from the oven, there was a low, but exceptionally loud rumbling from the singular road that led to the house. The noise increased in volume the closer it got, and Lydia’s stomach clenched. Was that.... a motorcycle? It was. She could hear it now, clearly, thundering up to the front of the house. 

 

“Oh dear, I wonder who that is,” Delia had fussed, tone annoyed and nervous, “We don’t have time for random strangers to be pulling up to the house!”  


“It’s probably some sort of lost .... somebody. When they ring I’ll just get rid of them,” asserted Charles.

 

The motorcycle revved, hard, snarling it’s presence right near the stairs of the front door before the vehicle stopped its ruckus. Whomever had been sitting on it was now approaching, Lydia could barely hear footsteps on the wood stairs. They were heavy, too. Boots. Lydia took a deep breath. _Please Beej....._

 

The doorbell rang. “This should be quick,” assured Charles to a handwringing Delia. He opened the door and Lydia could hear the following conversation from the confines of the kitchen.

“You’re........ you’re here for—— but, you’re here for _Lydia_? You’re her....but you’re not a——and you’re——“  


A *distinctly feminine* voice issued a response. It was husky, young and surprisingly forceful. 

“Well,” it practically *purred*, “We’re not all perfect. Where’s my girl at, anyhow?”   


“Uh, uh, she’s——“

 

Lydia flew out of the kitchen, her heart slamming in her chest. Looming over her father and leaning with an elbow above his head in the doorway was her “date”. She, yes, _she_ , was strikingly tall and that was just the first thing Lydia took in. The second was the tall bleach blond triple mohawk she sported, that was reminiscent of Betelgeuse’s natural hair color. It came adorned with sweet, long side-burn hair gently falling in front of her ears. The third, as her father moved awkwardly out of the way, was everything _else_. The persona Betelgeuse had chosen was all sorts of soft angles, with a tight midsection leading into a banging set of hips and breasts that were prominent enough to stand out but not be overly lewd. They hung above poor Charles’ startled face like a threat.

 

Her outfit was utterly offensive: black denim shorts that had been cut off too high for a girl her age, fishnets for miles down every inch of her willowy but strong legs, and a well-loved, tight tank top that was very nearly a crop top that read “Lick My Shitkickers”. Indeed, her black boots were a marvel. They lifted her at least four inches taller, with thick buckles all the way up to the top. She also wore a fully cropped oversized leather jacket, covered in pins that were hardly for polite company of any kind. The back of the jacket remained a mystery for now, but it could be imagined as just as offensive. Lydia’s shocked eyes yanked back up to the girl’s face. She had a beautiful strong jaw-line, high cheekbones and dark purple lipstick that made her white teeth look all the whiter. Dark, smoky, vampirella eyes met hers under hooded brow with thick, seductive eyebrows, the eye shadow she had selected made the jade color of her eyes blaze out like green fire. As her date shifted in the doorway, her earrings of miniature femur bones and the chains that adorned the bottom edge and back of the jacket jingled loudly and the leather of her cropped jacket creaked in the silence. Claw-like, jet black fingernails gestured vaguely on long fingers towards her.  


“ _There_ she is,” says that voice, slowly, clearly taking enormous pleasure in every second of this, “My sweet nightshade. She looks beautiful, don’t she? Y’gonna invite me in, pops?”  


Delia, who had been utterly stunned to silence previously finally stammered out, in a rush, “Wh...... Lydia....Lydia never told us your name, sweetheart.”

 

The punk goddess in the door frame slowly turned to her, a nasty little smile creeping across her features. She was all predatory confidence and it leaked from every word.

“Oh, it’s Betty. Betty Geuse,” there was a hard pause, and then, “You must be _Delia_ , I’ve heard _so much_ about you.”


End file.
